


Save the last dance

by Liviapenn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Adrenaline, Chromatic Character, Community: sg_rarepairings, Established Relationship, F/M, Peril, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-14
Updated: 2007-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a city that's always on the edge of destruction, sometimes it's hard to connect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the last dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latentfunction (keysmash)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysmash/gifts).



> Written for latentfunction; "Three Things You Want To See: Ancient tech made them do it; sexually-liberated Teyla; safe sex."

John was counting his way across the empty crystal slots with his fingers, mouthing numbers under his breath. "Okay," he said, tapping his radio impatiently, "now what? Rodney!"

"Fourth from the top, second from the left," Rodney's voice crackled, hoarse and tired. "Move it to the sixth from the top, third to the left, but don't activate it yet. Teyla, how's Teyla?"

"I am fine, I am able to help!" Teyla struggled to sit up, ignoring John's dark look. She had tripped on her way up into the Ancient outpost, the Wraith fire knocking her off her feet so that she had struck her head against the doorjamb. But as she had told John several times since then, it was truly nothing. "What shall I do?"

They had not been _looking_ for an Ancient outpost, but they had found one. Unfortunately, scanning it had activated some of its internal defenses, which had drawn the Wraith like maggots to a carcass. They would all have been culled, had Rodney not managed to raise the shields. For a day and a night now, they had been desperately routing and re-routing the ZPM's power through different circuits and into the shield generator. Ronon had slipped out several hours ago, during a short pause in the attack, and was attempting to reach the Gate and bring help. They had to maintain radio silence, of course, but Teyla was sure he was fine. If anyone could make it, Ronon could.

"Find the long-range sensors," Rodney instructed her. "We're stable for now, as long as Sheppard keeps on top of--"

"I'm on it!" John snapped, yanking out the last crystal in each row mechanically and shifting the rest down.

"Yes, yes!" Rodney snapped back. "Just-- keep doing that! Now, Teyla, if you can activate the long-range sensors, we might be able to send some kind of signal to Atlantis--"

"I am not there yet, Rodney!" Teyla pried at the cover of the sensor console, but it refused to come away. Her hands were shaking, and in frustration she used the butt of her P90 to hammer the panel loose; she had used up all of her ammunition long ago. Finally she heard something crack, and sighed in relief. She bent at the waist to set her P90 down gently on the floor. It probably saved her life.

* * *

She regained consciousness with John kneeling over her, his face very close to her own. He was slapping her face gently, and his hands smelled like smoke... no, Teyla realized, the _room_ smelled like smoke. "What happened?"

"Hey." John took a sharp breath and sat back on his heels, staring away at the wall. His hands were shaking, and as he raised his hands to rub at his eyes, Teyla turned her head away as well, pretending not to notice.

"Oh, thank God. It was my fault, sorry," Rodney said. He was peering over John's shoulder, wringing his hands. "A charge must've built up when I rerouted the-- and I didn't catch it in time--"

"It is not your fault," Teyla assured him. Her head throbbed even worse than before, but she would live. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Couple minutes," John said. Teyla nodded, trying to sit up, and John put his hand on her shoulder to hold her down. She gave him a sharp look, and he shook his head. "Do me a favor, just stay still a minute."

One of the Wraith ships outside chose that moment to unload another barrage, their fire landing with muffled thuds against the shield. Teyla sighed; the sound meant that the shield was still active, but it also meant she could not simply lie back and rest. "I am all right, really," she insisted. John sighed, but slid his arm around her and helped her sit up. "What should we do next?"

Rodney and John exchanged looks. They were not encouraging looks. "Well," Rodney said, "the good news is, I can sit down and have a fucking snack break. That is, I could if we had any food left, which we don't, so I guess instead I can have the traditionally less popular 'no snacks and the spectre of inevitable death' break."

"Rodney!" Teyla said wearily.

"We can't," Rodney said, "that was it, I-- those were the last undamaged crystals. They should last for a few hours, minimum. Maybe half a day. Look, I'm going to go take a nap. If it turns out we're going to die, don't wake me." He drifted towards the doorway, then turned back. "So, uh, actually-- I just kind of want to say-- um--"

"We know," Teyla said gently. "And-- you too, Rodney."

"You do?" Rodney looked startled. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure you knew what I was going to say."

"We knew." John said awkwardly, and dug around in one of the pockets of his tac vest, pulling out a slightly worse-for-wear power bar, which he tossed to Rodney. "Nice work today."

"Yes, it was," Rodney said. Already distracted by the power bar, he paused to look up and smile crookedly. "It really was. Anyway..." He gestured vaguely and drifted out into the hall.

Teyla pushed herself to her feet. At the far end of the secondary control room was an access hatch leading to another stairway, and she made her way towards it, limping slightly. She didn't really know where she was going, but she did not feel like spending any more time in this dingy, smoky little room. John fell in behind her, helping her open the hatch, and they stumbled up the narrow stairway to the outpost's observation deck.

It was a small space, nearly overgrown with native plant life. Vines coiled around the railings, there was grass growing at the edges of the deck and moss in the crevices of the patterned tile. Teyla lowered herself to a sitting position again, then lay down on her back and stared up at the shield and the ships hoving beyond, still spitting bursts of light every now and then. It was late twilight, nearly dark, and the way the shield shimmered when the hive's weapons impacted the barrier was... comforting, in a way.

John stretched out next to her, grunting a little as he fumbled with the laces of his shoes. Finally he kicked them off, pulling his socks as well. "There's a saying on Earth about dying with your boots on," he said, lying back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Have I told you that one?"

"You have not." Teyla said. Yawning, she pulled off her sweaty uniform jacket, rolling it up to make a lumpy pillow for her head. A cool breeze played over her bared arms and stomach, but the chill was pleasant after the stuffy, dusty outpost.

"Right. Well, that's pretty much it, really." John said, poking idly at a weedy-looking sapling with his toes.

Teyla looked away. "I am sure Ronon made it to the gate."

"Yeah," John said. After a while, he shrugged stiffly out of his tac vest and bunched it up into a rest for his own head. It did not look very comfortable.

Teyla closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to settle her breathing into a centered rhythm. It helped a little, although her head still hurt. Above her the shield thumped and rumbled, and the terrible _unfairness_ of it all tied a knot in Teyla's throat. They had been so close. So close.

Among her own people, she knew, there were those who would not have thought it so unfair. Others had suffered more than she had, lost much more than she had ever lost. She thought of Halling, who had never complained, never raged at his wife's death. Instead he spoke often of how much she had given him while she lived, his gratitude for the few short years they had shared. _Gratitude_. Teyla's lip curled, thinking of it. If she had to die, here, she would _not_ die complacent, let alone _grateful_. She was _angry_\-- at herself, at the Wraith, even at the Ancestors.

As if he had sensed the disturbing turn her thoughts had taken, John's fingers brushed slowly over the back of Teyla's hand. Instinctively, she turned her hand over and clasped his. He tensed.

"John?" she said, so softly she could barely even hear herself.

"Sorry," he said, just as quietly. "Thought you were asleep."

"No," Teyla said. John did not pull his hand away. Neither did she. Not for the first time, Teyla was surprised by John's capacity to be still. It was not something she had found to be common among his people. It was a pity she had never taken him hunting...

They were both silent for a while, as it grew darker and darker outside the shield. After a time, John moved his other hand, trailing it up over the arch of Teyla's hip. She looked down, and he stilled his hand, like a child caught trying to steal a treat. She smiled despite herself, and a laugh caught in John's throat as he slid his hand up over her bare midriff and her shoulder. Goosebumps prickled on Teyla's arm, and John brushed his thumb across the curve of her jaw.

"Is this a bad time?" he said, in that tone of voice that meant he was laughing at himself already.

"No," Teyla said. "Never. You know that." Did he, though, she wondered? She and John had not been lovers long. Teyla had not expected that it would change much about their interactions on a day to day basis, but she was still not sure whether or not she had been correct in that expectation. Both she and John had responsibilities that precluded any sort of romantic relationship taking a place of primary importance in their lives. And both she and John, she sensed, had been hurt in the past; had learned the trick of opening one's life and one's heart only so far, in order to safeguard against further injury.

She regretted that. Sometimes. And sometimes she got the feeling that John did too.

"I never know how to talk to you," John said.

"Then don't speak," Teyla said, and rolled over, crawling on top of him. She had meant it to be graceful-- sensual, perhaps-- but her back twinged and her head hurt and John kicked out with his leg, startled, and her elbow landed solidly against his ribs. "Sorry--"

"No, no, no," John said, his arms coming around her, holding her in place. "Not sorry. Don't be." He laughed, and Teyla bent her head and kissed him, hard. He responded with a groan, sinking his hands into her hair and holding her close. It blocked out most of the flickering light of the Wraith weapons, and Teyla was grateful for that.

They kissed for a while, and then Teyla brought her hands down to John's belt. "I want you, John. Now."

"Okay," John said against her mouth, then groaned. "Oh, goddammit."

"What?"

"My pack's downstairs." John sighed. He rolled his eyes up to glance longingly at the stairwell; Teyla could feel his reluctance to move in every aching muscle in her own body. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Do not worry about it," she said.

"Oh..." John said. "Well-- look, not that I want to talk you out of anything you really want to do, here-- definitely not-- but you know, there _is_ still a chance we might get through this. Alive and everything."

"Oh, yes. I believe we will," Teyla assured him. She sat up, straddling John, then reached over into her folded-up coat, sorting through the pockets until she found what she was looking for. She held the little packet up in front of John's face. "Otherwise I suppose we would not have to bother with this."

John blinked, then reached up and took the condom out of her hand. He grinned. "Never say die, huh?"

"Never," Teyla said, and took off her shirt.

It had grown colder as they lay on the deck, and she sank back into John's warm arms gratefully, stripping him to get to warmer skin with hurried movements. John co-operated, barely stopping to press hard kisses to her neck and collarbone. It was _good_, the scrape of his stubble against the slope of her breasts, his callused hands and hot breath.

Usually, Teyla managed to keep herself from yearning for things she could not have. It accomplished nothing, and only caused melancholy. But here and now, she could not stop thinking of how it _could_ have been. If only things had been different. Not hurried, not awkward, not with both of them aching and tired and the Wraith literally overhead. Not with the both of them carefully guarding their words, their touches. Being so careful not to get too attached, too close. Teyla had imagined-- yes, she _had_ imagined it-- she had thought of long winters, endless nights tangled under thick blankets. Lazy summer afternoons stretching on and on picnics and swimming and berry-picking expeditions... All the time in the world, hours for laughing, for teasing, for kissing or dancing. She had wanted it so _badly_. Time to learn his rhythm, and time to teach him hers.

She had always known that it would never happen like that. They would never be that free. They would never be that safe. They would never have the _time_.

Still, there was this moment, and it was enough for Teyla. She hoped it was enough for John as well.

* * *

"Hey! Sheppard, Teyla! Where _are_ you?"

Teyla jerked awake, hearing Rodney's voice buzzing softly from her discarded radio. It was nearly dawn-- the Wraith ships were still overhead, still firing, the shield still miraculously active and shimmering above their heads. John's arms were tangled around Teyla's waist and his head was nestled on her belly, and she didn't know where her shirt was. She couldn't believe she had actually managed to fall asleep. She sighed and groped around behind her, searching for John's radio.

"Sheppard, Teyla, please respond!" Rodney snapped again, his voice oddly loud. Teyla's eyes widened as she realized that she could hear Rodney coming up the stairs, and her shirt was still nowhere to be found. She grabbed John's jacket instead, holding it in front of herself for modesty.

"Are you guys up h-- _oh_." Rodney froze in the doorway. "Huh."

"Yes, Rodney?" Teyla said, trying to untangle her hair with her fingers.

"Oh, uh, well, I had a nap," Rodney gestured, "and then I had an idea..."

"Ten more minutes," John muttered into Teyla's stomach, and then "What? Idea?" He sat up, blinking at Rodney. Then he turned and blinked at Teyla. Then he looked off at nothing and casually buttoned his pants back up.

"Okay, you know what, Kirk and Edith, if you could get your priorities in order, by which I mean quit screwing around and get down here--"

"Help you with what? You said you'd done absolutely, positively everything even near humanly possible!"

"I'm a genius-- I think of five impossible things before breakfast." Rodney announced. John picked up one of Teyla's shoes, but Teyla took it out of his hand before he could throw it. Rodney didn't seem to notice. "Now, uh, if I could get a little help? I mean, I'm open-minded, shirts are certainly optional, but I _did_ mention that I have a brilliant plan to save all our lives, right? Because just now, the oddest thing happened, you'll never guess what: I came up with a brilliant plan to save all our lives, and--"

"We were sure you would, Rodney," Teyla assured him.

"Oh, please," Rodney said, glancing from John's coat, still clutched to Teyla's chest, to the love-bite flowering on John's neck. "You two totally thought we were doomed. Otherwise you'd never have finally given in to your inevitable--" He gestured back and forth between them, and John tried to grab Teyla's shoe back, but Teyla held it out of his reach. "Seriously, even _I_ could see it, and I'm usually not good at the personal-- Hey, could I get a little help here?" he finished up, flustered. "Because I'm really, really too smart to die." He turned around and headed down the stairs again.

"Gimme the shoe," John said under his breath.

Teyla considered it. But only for a second.

* * *

"Kirk and Edith?" Teyla inquired, later. After they had been rescued, Ronon coming back at Lorne's side, at the head of a fleet of puddlejumpers. After the obligatory infirmary visit, after a late team dinner in the mess hall-- turkey and a strange spicy pie called 'pumpkin.' And after Ronon and Rodney had drifted off to bed, and John and Teyla were left alone in the empty hall.

She usually did not care enough to make John explain every random Earth cultural reference he or Rodney made, but this was different. This was about _her_.

"What?" John said, looking up from his last couple of bites of pie.

"What Rodney said." Teyla said, already regretting that she'd said anything. "What did it mean?"

"I was wondering that myself," John said, and gave Teyla a sort of appraising look. Teyla raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'd..." John took a breath, a tiny ridge appearing between his eyebrows as he considered what he was about to say. "I'd hate for our... For what we have to change. No, I... That's not what I mean. You and me, we... You mean a lot to me, and I-- What happened back at the outpost, it was--"

"John," Teyla said, cutting him off.

"Yeah?" He looked at her nervously. Teyla found it unaccountably endearing.

"Kirk and Edith?"

"Oh," John said, disappointed. "Uh. The city on the edge of forever." He traced his fork around his empty plate in a circle once, then again. It was not much of an explanation at all, but Teyla was used to that.

Forever, she thought to herself. Why wait for forever-- why wait for "enough time" when the moment you lived in was always right here, right now? "Sometimes," she said tentatively, "change can be good."

John's head jerked up and he looked at her hard, then grinned. "Oh yeah?"

Teyla reached for John's hand across the table. "Difficult, yes," she said. "Challenging. Frightening. But... good. Sometimes."

"Sometimes," John echoed, squeezing her hand.

Teyla smiled. "I have found it so."

[end]


End file.
